


Sitting on a Powder Keg

by Meraad



Series: The Disaster that is Evelyn Trevelyan [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, F/M, Minor Violence, Suicidal Ideation, mentioned child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28266645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: The Advisors plan to name Evelyn Trevelyan Inquisitor does not go as well as they had hoped. Evelyn copes in the only way she knows how to and all parties involved suffer greatly.
Relationships: Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Female Trevelyan, Blackwall/Female Inquisitor
Series: The Disaster that is Evelyn Trevelyan [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244630
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. The Match

Evelyn stared down at the map in the War Room at Skyhold, looking at all the little green topped pins indicating the known rifts. Closing the breach hadn’t sealed them. Despite the outward calm, her heart was beating triple time in her chest and she could barely draw in a breath. Evelyn couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stay at Skyhold, with all these people who kept looking at her like she was the chosen one. 

And then they had gone and made it worse. Decided to call her Inquisitor in front of them all. They made a display of it, of her. So absorbed in her anxiety, Evelyn didn’t hear the door open, or the stomping footsteps coming toward her. A hand grabbed her arm, yanking her around and she saw a flash of fury on Seeker Pentaghast’s face before she shoved Evelyn hard.

A hiss of breath escaped her as her back slammed into the edge of the war table. Bruising barely healed ribs. “You selfish, spoiled little brat!” the Seeker snarled. “Those people are looking to you in their darkest hour and you-”

Straightening, and despite the fact that the other woman had at least six inches on her, Evelyn drew back her fist and punched her as hard as she could. “Fuck you!” Evelyn shouted. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want it!” 

Cassandra staggered back two steps, and Evelyn thought she might kill her there was such fury in her eyes. “I thought,” she bit out the words. “That after everything you would-” 

Evelyn shoved her. “You cornered me! You have put me in chains! I was willing to give my life for these people! Haven’t I don’t enough!? Now you want me to lead this fucking farce for some noble cause I don’t give two shits about?!” She saw the punch coming and didn’t bother to move. Blood filled her mouth as she fell back against the war table once more. She spit and was about to launch herself at the Seeker when three more figures rushed in. 

Then the Commander was between them, hands raised. “That is enough,” he said, looking at Evelyn and then Cassandra.

“You’re the ones who told me I could leave once I sealed the breach,” she shot a glare at the Nightengale, at Josephine, before looking back at Cassandra. 

“Circumstances changed,” Josephine, ever the diplomat said, stepping closer, but still keeping her distance. “Everything turned out to be far more complicated and there is much more at stake than we had originally realized.” 

“That is not my problem,” Evelyn snarled at her and Leliana stepped up beside the Antivan woman.

“At the very least, we need that mark on your hand,” Leliana said. “More than that though, we need you. You are the one who found a way out of Haven for the people and risked your life to save them. We need a leader like that.” 

Evelyn laughed, and it wasn’t kind. Reaching up she wiped at the blood that dripped from the corner of her mouth and shook her head. “And if I refuse? What are you going to do? Put me in chains? Beat me into submission?” she shot a sidelong look at Cassandra. “I don’t care about any of you. I don’t care who killed the Divine. And I swear I’m stabbing the next person who says I am Andraste’s chosen.” 

With that, she stormed out of the War room. Cullen rubbed his hand over his face. “The Warden tried to warn you. I told you, he knows her, far better than any of us. Putting her on the spot like that, what else did you expect?”

“I expect her to stop acting like a child,” Cassandra ground out between her teeth, finally reaching up to press her fingers to her already bruised eye.

It was a few hours later that Cullen spotted her standing on the ramparts, overlooking an area where several children played. Ages ranging from a toddler, barely walking to a child on the cusp of adulthood. “Lady Trevelyan,” he said softly and saw her entire body stiffen, but otherwise she did not move. “I want to apologize,” he said, moving to stand beside her. “The Inquisition does need you, but I will agree that the manner in which-”

“You were in Kirkwall during the Qunari invasion,” she said, cutting him off, but never taking her eyes off the children playing.

“I was,” he acknowledged. Dark times and the attack on Haven had been all too familiar.

“How many children were killed during that attack?”

Cullen’s throat went dry and he opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and gave his head a slight shake. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “Too many.” Because even one was too much.

“They got them all out safe, from Haven. Not a single child perished. A few broken bones and they’ll be traumatized for life, but-” her voice broke. “Not one child was killed escaping Haven. Where were the Templars? The City guard during the attack in Kirkwall? Why didn’t they protect the innocent?” 

Cullen didn’t know what to say, and as he turned his head to look at Evelyn’s profile, he saw her cheeks were wet with tears. “Fuck your Chantry and your Maker. You and your Inquisition can burn for all I care.” There was such fury in her voice. “If I stay,” she jerked her chin slightly towards the playing children. “It’s for them and no one else.” 


	2. Burning Down

Staring down at Evelyn, Blackwall put his hands on his hips and let out a tired sigh. “Thanks, kid,” he said, glancing to the boy who sat perched on the short stone wall, watching over the unconscious woman. 

“I don’t know how to help her,” he said.

“She doesn’t want any,” Blackwall told him crouching down beside her. Evelyn lay curled up on her side, her back to the stone wall, her left hand curled around the locket at her throat, the right, thrown out in front of her, clutching an empty bottle of wine. He had tried to warn them against the spectacle. What had made them think putting her in front of a crowd and dubbing her Inquisitor was a smart decision?

At least the Commander had listened to him, but their arguments fell on deaf ears. As if cornering her like that would force her to comply, rather than lash out like a hurt animal. Pushing her hair back from her face, he looked at her. They had only been at Skyhold for a week, but she’d obviously, finally, let a healer close enough that her arm was no longer splinted, though it wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d just ripped it off herself, damn the consequences. 

“But if I made her forget, she wouldn’t hurt so much. She wouldn’t look down at the rocks below with so much want.” 

Blackwall turned his head, giving Cole a sharp look. Most didn’t trust the boy, spirit, demon, whatever he was, he saw far too much, and it made people uneasy, himself included. But he looked out for Evelyn, so Blackwall held his tongue. “Don’t do anything to her memories,” he warned him, looking back at the scars on her forehead, the bruises under her eyes. “Those memories, no matter how painful, they make her who she is. Whatever any of us have been through,” himself included, “make us who we are today.” He gave his head a little shake. “Unless she asks.”

Cole’s head canted to the side, and Blackwall tried so hard not to think of that wagon. Of the children’s rhyme, then the screams and the blood. He blinked, then after tugging the bottle from her hand, he gathered her into his arms. Her head shifted, and she let out a loud snore. “I won’t let her fall,” Cole promised and Blackwall inclined his head before carrying her along the ramparts to the stone stairs. The lookouts made a show of looking elsewhere as he passed with their unconscious Inquisitor in his arms.

She wasn’t sleeping, maybe a few hours a night, if even that. Evelyn had found him most nights since the debacle at Haven and would curl up against him long after everyone else was already abed, but then she was gone before the sunlight began to creep up over the horizon. He carried her into the barn, and up the stairs to the loft where he had been staying since they’d arrived. He knew he had a room somewhere, but he hadn’t bothered to even find it. The barn was just fine for him. 

Carefully laying Evelyn down on the makeshift pallet of hay, and furs, he unlaced her boots and tugged them off before draping a blanket over her. Then he sat back, leaning against a stack of hay, and closed his eyes.

  
“Isaak!” the scream tore through the night quiet in the barn, jerking Blackwall from his doze. Immediately his eyes found Evelyn. She sat up, her breathing coming in ragged gasps, fingers clutching at the blanket that now pooled in her lap. 

“Ev?” he said softly, reaching out his fingers touched her ankle and she flinched. “Evelyn.” 

She turned her face and in the dim light from the moon, he saw her cheeks were wet. “Why him?” her voice cracked. “Why my baby?” her face crumpled and a broken sob escaped her lips. 

Hesitating for a beat, Blackwall looked at her. Face pressed in her hands, shoulders curving forward as she shook with the violence of her sobs. He should have left well enough alone with her months ago and he had no business reaching out to her now. But he did, gathering her into his arms, she curled her fists in the front of his tunic and the grief poured out of her. 

He didn’t try to reassure her, didn’t whisper words of comfort, he just held her, one arm tight around her middle, the other hand smoothing down the back of her head in a steady movement. “He was only a child, why would they kill a child?” Her tears seeped through his tunic and felt scalding against his skin. Closing his eyes, he continued the gentle stroking of her hair. 

Blackwall could see the carriage so clearly, smell the scent of hay and flowers on the breeze. His soldiers, waiting to ambush. He gave the signal, and they took out the guards silently and with relative ease. Then the song reached his ears.

_Mockingbird, mockingbird, quiet and still, what do you see from the top of that hill? Can you see up? Can you see down? Can you see the dead things all about town?_

The voices of children, singing an old nursery rhyme. 

Children. No, he thought, gut twisting. Callier was supposed to be alone. But if he called his soldiers back, they’ll find out the truth. He held his tongue, let the cowardice win, and stood idly by while a mother screamed and begged for her children’s lives before they cut her down. Terrified children clung to a dead woman before their blood soon spilled into the earth below as well.

Forcing his eyes open once more and out of that memory, Blackwall pressed his lips to the crown of her head. It had to end, he knew that now beyond any shadow of a doubt. If, no, when she found out, she’d hate him, rightfully so, but he also knew her well enough that she’d hate herself as well. Blame herself for going to bed with a murderer of children. “Who did it?” he asked, voice gentle. 

He could do that for her, if they hadn’t already been brought to justice, he’d do it himself, and hopefully, that might ease some of her grief. Evelyn was quiet for long moments, and he wondered if she’d reply. “He-” her voice cracked. “Isaak, he-they- Alexander - they were in Kirkwall.” A hitched breath. “During the Qunari uprising.” A long silence, he felt her shudder against him and another sob slipped free. “I wasn’t there to protect them.” 

Blackwall held her tighter, knowing there was nothing else he could do. So he held her until her sobbing quieted once more, and her breathing evened out. Then careful not to wake her, Blackwall laid her back out on the furs, drew the blankets up around her, and after smoothing her hair back from her face he stood up and walked out of the barn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this last part did not go the way I'd initially planned. There was going to be much more angst and betrayal but well... that just didn't happen.

Evelyn felt raw and exposed after her night spent wine drunk and weeping in Blackwall’s arms. And if she was hiding, then she’d earned that after everything that had happened the day before. It was completely absurd, but in the early morning hours she’d crawled into a small gap between two hedges in the garden where she could peer out through the leaves, but so long as she stayed quiet, no one would notice her. 

Her body ached, muscles stiff from sitting so still for hours. But she could hear children laughing and playing which made her heart ache and tears fill her eyes at the same time that she felt such relief that they were safe. Something struck the side of her foot and looking down she saw a little wooden ball that had rolled away from a child.

She hesitated, if she rolled it back out and anyone was looking, she’d be caught. But if she didn’t, and someone came looking for it, she’d still be caught. Evelyn didn’t have time to do much more than pick up the ball before leaves rustled and a little girl crawled into the space in front of her. “Oh,” she said in surprise, her eyes wide as she stared. 

“This yours?” Evelyn asked in a whisper, holding up the ball.

The little girl grinned, showing off the gap between her two front teeth. “Are you’s hiding?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Hide and seek?” She bounced slightly, her near-black curls bobbing with the movement. 

“Just hiding,” Evelyn told her, lifting her hand to press a finger to her lips. “Can you keep it a secret?” she asked.

The girl canted her head, frowning slightly as she stared at her and Evelyn thought she couldn’t be older than six. “You’re her,” she said. “The one who saved us?”

Barely biting back a groan, Evelyn curled her left hand into a fist and shoved it down at her side. “Aren’ ya? In Haven, when the bad men came. Mamae says you’re the reason we got out safe.” 

“Your family is safe?” Evelyn asked her, hopeful that every one this bright-eyed little girl cared for was alive and unharmed.

She nodded. “Papa is in Redcliffe, bu’ mamae says he’s safe there, busy keeping other mamaes and babies safe.” The girl sniffled quietly and rubbed her fist against her eye. “Bu’ I wan’ him to come home.”

In that moment, Evelyn made a silent vow that she would find out who this little girl’s father was and she’d make sure that he was in Skyhold before the week was up. 

“Dinaya,” a voice called and the girl in front of Evelyn straightened. 

“Mamae is calling,” 

“Dinaya!” A sharper note, that held the hint of panic. 

“You’d better go then,” Evelyn told her pressing the ball into her hand before nudging her back out through the gap in the brush.

“Oh, there you are, what were you-” Evelyn watched the woman scoop the child into her arms and her heart ached painfully in her chest. 

“Mamae! I saw-” the girl broke off, and hugged her arms around her shoulders. “I love you,” she told her, changing the subject.

“I love you too, my baby,” the woman held her easily on one hip, her arm curled under her rump, while the other cupped her face and drew her close to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “But don’t sneak off like that, you know better.” 

“My ball rolled in,” the girl held up the object as proof and Evelyn felt herself giving in, relenting. These people were why she was here. If it weren’t for them, she’d leave. She didn’t care about the fate of the Chantry, or who had killed the Divine, but glancing down at her hand, she knew that she couldn’t leave and she would have to be the Inquisitor that the Seeker, the Nightingale, Lady Montilyet and the Commander were all forcing her to be.

Drawing in a deep breath, she steeled her spine and then crawled out of her hiding space much to the delight of Dinaya, and surprise of her mother. “What-oh - oh, my Lady.” The woman started to bow but Evelyn held up her hands.

“Don’t do that, please, I am begging you don’t do that.” They were in an empty corner of the garden, so other than these two, no one had seemed to notice that Evelyn had been hiding like a child in the bushes. “Please,” she dropped her hands.

Then other people seemed to notice her presence and her skin began to crawl. She wasn’t one for such attention, and knowing that they looked at her like that because they believed her to be chosen by a god she didn’t believe in made it so much worse. “Are you in need of anything? You and your family, or do you know of any others?” 

An hour later, Evelyn finally left the garden, exhausted. But she’d tried to make sure those people understood that she was there for them and that they only need ask if they were in need of anything. Which was why she found herself walking through the main hall to Lady Montilyet’s office to speak with her and give her the short list of things she wanted them to have.

“Oh, my lady,” Josephine seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief. “We have been looking for you all morning.” Evelyn wondered if they thought she’d left again. “This arrived for you this morning.” She held out a folded bit of parchment and Evelyn frowned as she opened it, her eyes skimming over the words quickly. 

_ Allan is dead. He was murdered by those filthy apostate mages. We’ve not heard word from either Martin or William. Rumor has told you’re the Herald of Andraste, the very thought is a disrespect to the Maker. But if you have any true power within the Inquisition, perhaps you will not shame your family, and find your brothers. _

Fresh pain lanced her heart. Allan was dead. Her eldest brother, nearly ten years her senior. She hadn’t spoken to him, or Martin or William since they left home to join the Templars. The Templars. She hadn’t even thought of them, even knowing some of the atrocities happening within the Templar ranks. Looking up she met Josephine’s sympathetic gaze. “Commander Cullen does still have connections with the Templars,” she told her and Evelyn realized she’d read the letter. 

Blackwall had a plan, with every intention of making sure that Evelyn stopped seeking him out. But when he made his way up to the loft that evening as the sun began to set, he found her sitting on the bales of hay, boots off, a bottle of wine in her hand he knew he didn’t have the willpower to refuse her anything. 

Sitting down to face her, their thighs touched, he reached out and tugged the bottle from her fingers and was surprised to find it still mostly full. He took a long pull from the bottle before setting it down on the wooden floor and all the while she remained silent, just watching him. 

“I’ll be leaving for the Fallow Mire in the morning,” she told him after a long time. “A group of Inquisition soldiers were taken hostage, and there are rifts and apparently possessed corpses walking out of the lakes.” She looked away, staring out the wide opening that overlooked Skyhold. “Will you come?” Evelyn turned her face back to his and Blackwall was stunned.

This woman was not the sort to ask for help. And that she was asking him, it gutted him. “You need only say the word,” he told her honestly. After all, he thought, someone needed to keep her from sacrificing herself at the first opportunity, and he trusted no one else to that task. 

Something in his gaze must have given away his thoughts because her brow furrowed and she shook her head. “You aren’t going to save me, Warden.” Perhaps that was true, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying.

Evelyn shifted forward, easily sliding to straddle his lap while her fingers slid into his hair. She leaned in close enough that her breath fanned over his lips. “Share my bed tonight,” she breathed the words.

“My lady,” his voice came out a hoarse rasp.

“Evelyn,” she corrected him. “Yes, or no.” 

“Yes,” he replied, echoing their first conversation together. Blackwall slid his hands along the outsides of her thighs, up until he cupped her bottom. “My lady,” he murmured and felt her sharp tug on his hair.

“Evelyn,” she said and her eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide. “I want to hear you scream it when you come.” 

Blackwall let out an unexpected chuckle and then he tumbled her onto her back on the furs over the hay. Her legs went around his waist and she tugged at his hair again. “Kiss me,” Evelyn murmured and he hesitated a moment, searching her face. Then he slid a hand up to gently grip her jaw, before claiming her mouth in the deepest of kisses. Refusing this woman, he knew, was something that was never in the cards for him.


End file.
